Emerging media from the borderlands of Jewish identity

Two of Four

My dad feels that Steve, his older brother, was affected more dramatically by the war—via its direct effects on Susi, their mother. Steve was born on the war’s cusp, in 1944, the eldest of four brothers. My dad says Steve reacted to the Holocaust’s underpinnings in a different way than the other three, as reactions are always unpredictable.

When they were little, Steve and my dad were extremely close. Being the first two in the world, they had time to themselves, retreating every year, for example, to their uncle’s farm. In these pictures they are extremely sweet together, natural as brothers are—two of the same taking care of each other.

Now, Steve’s and my father’s personalities—though they overlap some—are almost opposites. My dad says Steve reminds him of his ex-wife, who was conscious of her prominence and basked in it. Another way of describing their boyhood differences: Steve was

a fan of Pat Boone, my father of Elvis. Pat Boone was accepted and white-shoed, where Elvis stuck out untamed against that upright look.

My dad feels that general internal complexities profoundly and fundamentally effect Holocaust survivors, and through them, their offspring. He says Steve was proud to drive to work as a doctor, to be part of the workforce; that perhaps this was partially a desire to be accepted where internally, with the burden survivors and their children bear, he stood apart.

My dad feels that through these extreme and hidden pressures, Steve and he became separate and distant, that for a time Steve reacted by “acting out” (rather than turning inward).

This formality of detachment became a factor not too long ago. In fact they understand each other extremely well, my dad says, and I imagine they share more than at first it seems. Steve cares very much for my dad and is not afraid to express it, whereas my

father is more aloof and less willing to cross that bridge after recent family difficulties. Exactly what the misunderstanding between them was seems lost, an impenetrable glass barrier. My dad has never expressed his feelings for Steve apart from how he felt when he was younger, and in his company he is reserved.

When they were young, Steve apparently wasn’t a good fighter. There was a rumor one day that someone Steve’s age had been beaten up. All day my dad worried, thinking it might be Steve. Upon arriving home and seeing his brother unharmed on the couch, he felt immensely relieved.

HALF-REMEMBERED STORIES

In July 2010, we will be rolling out a multi-media exhibition about lost people, lost places, and the quest to reclaim lost memory. In preparation for this exhibit, we've invited 16 young Jews, ages 15 to 25, to blog.